


Rise

by mangomunkki



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, pof spoilers, some mentions of the rest of Dragon's Watch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26091856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangomunkki/pseuds/mangomunkki
Summary: Cheating death always backfires on you eventually, even if you're a necromancer.
Relationships: Firnüel/Zayyaan al-Nasir
Kudos: 1
Collections: Commander Firnüel





	Rise

Hot desert air presses against his lips, slightly parted to allow for easier intake. Firnüel takes in a ragged gulp, the action feeling foreign and familiar at the same time – it's like he hadn't breathed in a few hours.

His lungs expand dutifully to accommodate the incoming air, but don't do so without protest. The shockwave of pain from everywhere in his chest hits Firnüel just as the blessed oxygen does, sending him into a coughing fit and instinctively curling inward, to protect the area the pain is radiating from. The sudden noise and movement from him draw the attention of the people around him, the sullen mood exploding into a sudden cacophony of noise. Zayaan reaches him first, kneeling next to him and laying a comforting hand on his forehead. Comforting or restraining, Firnüel is not actually all too sure, but, it may as well serve as both, as the Sunspear guides him back to where he was laying on the ground. Firnüel goes dutifully, too focused on the arguments sparking around him to really put up a fight. He barely registers the flow of healing magic Zayyaan is pouring on him, eyes still on the rest of Dragon's Watch, huddled away some metres from him.

"- he was dead! You confirmed it, we all did! So what is this, now?" Firnüel catches the tail end of what Rytlock is saying, the snarl on his lips and the tight grip on Sohothin's hilt underlining just how stressed he currently is. Wait, what. Dead? Surely not. Not even necromancers come back from the dead, that much Firnüel is certain of. He, if anyone, would know, considering the amount of study and personal experience he's put into both death and reanimation. He turns his head, trying to meet Zayyaan's gaze, to maybe get some explanation out of him – he doesn't feel like raising his voice, his throat hoarse, for some reason, like he'd been screaming. Odd. Maybe all of the smoke in the air during the fight had–

Firnüel's thought process freezes when he sees the ground he's laying on, eyes locked on the golden sap staining the topmost layer of sand. He knows that sap well, intimately well, considering it's the very thing flowing inside him, giving him life. He'd seen Passio stand by Sage's side, and if he'd been standing, no way had he lost enough blood to stain the very earth. The char marks accompany the biggest puddles, still-glowing footmarks sometimes accompanying areas with large blood smears, almost as if someone'd been dragged there. Firnüel's gaze slowly moves over to look at one of the pillars in particular, at the spiderweb cracks emanating from its centre.

_The pillar cracks under his back as he is thrown against it, with a resounding snap Firnüel is quite sure came from him and not the stone. He has no time to try and locate where, exactly, the sound came from, as Balthazar strides over, crossing the distance with a few quick steps. His fist closes around Firnüel's throat, squeezing, as the god lifts him to eye level, taunting him with a sneer on his face. "Where's all that bravado now, Commander? Not so cocky with no one at your back, are you?"_

Firnüel lifts a shaking hand to his chest, eyes slowly following its movement. Darkness covers the edges of his vision as his eyes settle on the singed edges of what used to be his chest armour. He knows this armour, he witnessed it being sung from the very earth, he knows what it can withstand. With the most tender of touches, he takes ahold of one of the leaves surrounding the sundered edges of the gaping hole in the chestplate. The leaf can't stand the contact of his touch any further, dissolving into a fine ash between his fingertips. What could cause this level of fire damage?

_Balthazar's hands, just like the rest of the god, are coated in flame. Firnüel is no stranger to fire, having spent quite some time with elementalists, rangers and guardians, who all utilise fire magic and harness the element. Never has he encountered fire that burns this bright, however. The flames around Balthazar's fist seem to flare even more as he pins him down to the ground, Firnüel's body having long since lost any energy or capability to fight back, to resist. The fist burns, burns,_ _**burns** _ _, as it forces its way through his chest, passing through the layers of enchanted cloth and leaves like they were nothing, sinking deep inside of his chest. Firnüel's back arches, mouth agape in a wordless scream, but his eyes are not on the god, but the quivering blue shape behind him._

_blue dragon_

_Aurene_

_**Aurene.** _

"Aurene!" Firnüel's voice is raspy, the desperation audible, as he jolts from the memory back into current time. "Where is she, we have to-" Getting up hurts, _hurts_ , but he can't just stay here lying on the ground, Aurene is in trouble, he has to help her.

Zayaan's hand is already on his clavicle, easily pushing him back down. "Firn, you're not going anywhere." As if predicting the flood of arguments Firnüel is about to throw at him, as soon as his throat would stop both closing up and feeling like he's swallowed lava, Zayyaan continues, fixing him with an unnaturally stern gaze.

"We" he emphasises the word with a nod to the rest of Dragon's Watch, "are already working on a plan to get her back. Boryanus, I believe they were called, is currently tracking Balthazar, keeping us updated on his movements the best they can. Your companions, Sage and Passio, are hatching a plan to get the scales balanced a little in terms of military strength, and Kasmeer has her contacts scouring archives in Kryta to find out anything about Balthazar's weaknesses and possible ways to bring him down. You, however," – he punctuates this with another press to his chest, careful to avoid the injured area– "are going to have to rest. You _died_ , Firn. You don't just walk that off."

Any protest Firnüel has die on his tongue as he registers obvious worry in Zayyaan's eyes. Their blue is captivating on its own, but now it's like Firnüel is gazing at a stormy sea, the turmoil in the Sunspear's mind evident. Firnüel closes his eyes, the eye contact too much to bear at the moment.

He takes a few seconds. Collects his thoughts. Sighs. "All right. If you think it's required." He hates leaving the responsibility for someone else, hates it like nothing else, but Zayyaan is right. Considering how much energy even forming a few short sentences is taking out of him, he is in no shape to get back out there. He meets Zayyaan's eyes again, noting the blatant relief in his expression at his compliance. Oh, right. Healer. He probably was the one to stitch him back together during the time he was out – _dead_ , the word still chilling his bone– otherwise his chest would still be in ruins. He would have to thank him. Profusely, in fact. First, though, he has to check in with his people.

"Zaya?" A quick nod of his head indicates the Sunspear is listening, and thankfully does not point out how Firnüel's voice seems to be getting weaker and raspier with every word. "Can you help me stand? I need to talk to them."

**Author's Note:**

> come on, no way was the Commander fine and ready to keep going an hour after being tortured and killed by Balthazar


End file.
